


Feel the way you love me

by almostafantasia



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Day 3 - Soft, F/F, Killing Eve Week, PWP, Praise Kink, Smut, blindfolding, but in a tender way more than a kinky way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostafantasia/pseuds/almostafantasia
Summary: Villanelle just wants Eve to be soft with her.(aka an exploration into Villanelle’s praise kink)
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 17
Kudos: 299
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	Feel the way you love me

The silk scarf, made by a designer that Eve hadn’t even heard of until Villanelle came home laden with shopping bags last week, is far too expensive to be used as an accessory during sex. The material runs through her fingers like liquid and Eve imagines how it would feel around her neck, how it would look paired with the inordinately expensive coat that Villanelle gifted her with on their six month anniversary.

But Eve finds it really difficult to say no to Villanelle when she’s naked. Villanelle knows that too, which is why it is a vicious and dirty tactic for Villanelle to remove her own bra seconds before presenting Eve with the luxuriously soft piece of silk.

“Are you sure?” Eve asks, winding the scarf around her fingers and tracing the back of her hand against Villanelle’s cheekbone.

“Please, Eve.”

Villanelle carries the plea in her eyes, which are so beautiful and expressive that it’s a shame to have to cover them up.

Eve’s selfish desire to be able to look Villanelle in the eye when she touches her is overcome by her willingness to give Villanelle exactly what she wants, and she complies. Circling around behind Villanelle, Eve folds the piece of silk in half and then in half again, before she places the fabric across Villanelle’s face so that it forms a thick band the covers her eyes. She pulls the two ends together at the back of Villanelle’s head and leans closer to Villanelle’s ear so that she can whisper her next question, already taking advantage of Villanelle’s temporary blindness and enjoying that way that Villanelle shudders at the sound of Eve’s voice so close and unexpected.

“Do you need me to be rough?”

“No,” Villanelle answers, shaking her head from side to side, though her movement is careful so as to not dislodge the silk covering her eyes. “Soft.”

Eve brings the two ends of the scarf together at the back of Villanelle’s head and knots them together. She works with as much care as she can muster, even as she pulls the scarf tight across Villanelle’s eyes so that it has less chance of slipping off. Finishing off with a double knot to keep it secure, Eve internally mourns the fact that the beautiful silk will come away creased when the knots are undone later, but the thought slips from her mind as she steps back to admire her handiwork.

The scarf is beautiful, but it has nothing on Villanelle.

She stands in the middle of their bedroom, vulnerable and naked, and now Eve gets it. Her sharp intake of breath as she drinks in Villanelle’s appearance, naked except for the makeshift blindfold, is involuntary but deserved. Villanelle is gorgeous, clothed or unclothed, but even more attractive than her obvious physical beauty is the way that she gives herself to Eve, the way that she trusts Eve enough to give up one of her senses.

Coming from an assassin who is probably always on hyper alert for danger at every moment, it means a lot.

Villanelle’s next words mean even more.

“I want to feel the way you love me,” she says aloud into the bedroom that she can no longer see, submitting herself to Eve verbally as well as physically.

Eve has the power to do anything. Now that Villanelle can no longer see her, even the simplest of kisses will be unexpected if Eve doesn’t announce it first. Eve’s breaths in and out are shaky as she takes a few steps around Villanelle to stand in front of her again, contemplating the millions of possibilities.

There is a part of Eve, an impulsive, carnal part of her, that sees Villanelle like this and wants to be rough. To push her down on the bed, to use her and fuck her and deny her more than just her eyesight until she is begging Eve for merciful release.

It’s a trust thing, though, this blindfold. Villanelle wants to be soft and while Eve is certain that Villanelle would still get plenty of enjoyment out of Eve being rough with her, she trusts Eve to give her soft.

And soft is what Villanelle will get.

“You’re so good for me,” Eve praises her, lifting a hand to Villanelle’s face and running the pad of her thumb along Villanelle’s cheekbone, letting the tip brush beneath the lower edge of the scarf. The touch is unexpected to Villanelle, who flinches, then leans into it, trying to get more from Eve. “So pretty for me.”

“For you, Eve. All for you.”

Eve’s hands settle on Villanelle’s waist and she guides her backwards until her calves hit the bed frame. Villanelle sits down on the edge of the mattress and waits for Eve’s next move.

“Good girls get rewards,” says Eve, moving her hands to her own hips and hooking her thumbs beneath the lacy waistband of her underwear, pushing them down until they pool around her ankles.

Eve steps out of her underwear and cups Villanelle’s cheek with one hand, while letting the other trail down the column of Villanelle’s neck, the back of her fingernails barely even touching the skin. She continues a path across Villanelle’s pronounced clavicle and around the outer swell of her breast, watching as Villanelle lets out a breath that trembles from the exertion of trying not to react to the ticklish touch.

“I want to hear you,” Eve tells her, as she lets her thumb get tauntingly close to Villanelle’s nipple. “You always make such pretty sounds for me.”

Villanelle tries to arch her back to push her chest into Eve’s hand and Eve concedes, brushing the pad of her thumb across a sensitive nipple.

It’s selfish of Eve, really, because she does it for the predictable gasp that escapes Villanelle’s throat but when she does it again, circling tighter and tighter until she pinches the hardening nub between her thumb and forefinger to elicit an actual moan, she knows that the enjoyment isn’t one-sided. Villanelle loves having her tits played with and Eve is always more than happy to comply. Villanelle’s tits are perfect, beautifully pert, just the right size for Eve’s hands, with pretty nipples that are always so delightfully responsive to Eve’s touch.

“Beautiful girl,” Eve praises her, and Villanelle arches into her hand again. “You like that?”

Villanelle manages a brief nod, before her head falls back as another gasp spills from her lips.

“Use your words, baby,” says Eve, encouraging her with another pinch to her pebbled nipple.

“I like it,” says Villanelle, her voice a delicious rasp.

“I like it too. It’s a shame you can’t see how much I like it.”

Eve clenches her thighs together reflexively, even if Villanelle can’t actually see her do it, but the words alone seem to have an effect on Villanelle, judging from the way that her breathing gets heavier and she arches her chest into Eve’s hand again.

“Do you know what else I like?” Eve asks, leaning her face closer to Villanelle’s ear as she speaks and relishing the way that the unexpected proximity sends a visible shudder through Villanelle’s body.

“What else?” asks Villanelle, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eve reaches out with her free hand and touches Villanelle’s lower abdomen, then sends it lower still. Villanelle flinches at the initial touch but then, realising Eve’s destination, opens her legs obediently and leans her weight on her hands behind her, allowing Eve the access she needs to send her hand past the neat patch of trimmed hair at the apex of her thighs and into the arousal that awaits.

“I like how wet you get for me,” Eve says.

She slides her fingers with no real purpose other than to tease, refusing to give Villanelle any kind of real rhythm or pressure. Eve’s fingers slip through her folds almost too easily, and she toys briefly at Villanelle’s entrance, before collecting the arousal that drips onto her fingertips and dragging it upwards, revelling in the involuntary stutter of Villanelle’s hips as Eve’s fingers slide across the hood of her clit.

Eve drops silently onto her knees and presses a lingering kiss to the soft skin of Villanelle’s thigh, then asks, “Does it turn you on to give yourself to me like this? To not know what I’m going to do next?”

“Does it turn you on?” Villanelle dares to challenge Eve back.

Eve withdraws her hand, much to Villanelle’s disappointment.

“No,” she whines, her pretty lips pressed into a pout. “Don’t stop. I’ll be good. Yes, it turns me on. So much.”

Nudging Villanelle’s thighs even further apart, Eve nestles herself between them and brings her hand back down between Villanelle’s legs, deliberately avoiding her clit as she slides lower and sinks two fingers past Villanelle’s entrance.

Villanelle gasps at the sudden intrusion and bucks her hips forward into Eve’s hand. Her head falls back, mouth still hanging open, and the loose ends of the silk scarf past the knot at the back of her head fall down her back alongside ribbons of golden hair. It’s a visual that Eve wants burned onto the inside of her eyelids, so that every time she blinks for the rest of eternity this is what she sees.

“It turns me on too,” says Eve, widening the stance of her knees on the floor and sending her free hand down between her own legs.

Deliberately avoiding her clit, because it’s not the time to get distracted by her own pleasure, Eve slides her fingers down through her own wetness and back up again, dripping into her own palm with each moan that Villanelle lets out above her. It would be so easy to get lost in this moment, to touch herself to the same rhythm she uses to touch Villanelle until their heartbeats sync up, but that’s not the purpose. Eve has a duty to Villanelle’s pleasure and she has never been one to shy away from commitment. Which is why she commits to coating her fingers in her own arousal, then reluctantly withdraws them so that she can bring her hand to Villanelle’s mouth, curling the fingers of her other hand against Villanelle’s front wall so that she gasps and has no choice but to let Eve’s digits slip past her lips.

Eve watches, almost drooling as Villanelle wraps her lips around Eve’s fingers and sucks them into her mouth. Eve’s other hand stills, unable to concentrate on anything except the way that Villanelle’s tongue licks the length of her fingers, until Villanelle suddenly stops, leaning back and letting the digits slide out of her mouth with a pop as her face twists into a frown of confusion half-hidden by the scarf across her eyes.

“Wait, that’s not -” Villanelle trails off and brings Eve’s hand to her mouth again, running the pointed tip of her tongue along the crease between Eve’s index and middle fingers. Villanelle hums at the taste, and then says, “Eve, have you been touching yourself?”

“I couldn’t help myself,” confesses Eve.

Impressed that Villanelle could recognise the taste as Eve’s, she drags her fingers, now coated with a mixture of her own sticky arousal and Villanelle’s saliva, out of Villanelle’s mouth and down her chin.

“But I can’t see you,” Villanelle groans, as Eve’s fingers move even lower, down her neck and chest, then deliberately tracing light circles around an erect nipple.

“And whose fault is that, baby?”

Villanelle lets out another moan, getting wetter against Eve’s palm at the use of a pet name, and Eve rewards her by hooking her fingers forwards as she drags them out ever so slowly. Villanelle is so easy to manipulate when she is like this, putty in Eve’s hands. All it takes is the right touch, teeth and tongue against particular spots, a perfectly-timed ‘baby’, and and Villanelle is completely powerless beneath her.

Eve loves it.

“I think you deserve a treat,” says Eve, turning her head so that she can catch the soft skin of Villanelle’s thighs between her teeth. “I think you deserve a reward for being so wet for me.”

As if she knows exactly what Eve is suggesting, one of Villanelle’s hands finds its way to the back of Eve’s head and her legs spread even wider, as she winds Eve’s curls around her fingers and begs, “Please, Eve.”

Eve doesn’t have the heart to make Villanelle wait, not when she wants exactly the same thing. She withdraws her fingers and spreads them, moving one to either side of Villanelle’s clit as she spreads the wetness upwards, then tilts her head forward to follow of the path with her tongue.

“Eve…”

Eve’s name is like a song spilling from Villanelle’s lips, and how Villanelle manages to make a single syllable sound so melodic is an enigma that Eve doesn’t have time to explore. Villanelle’s hand in Eve’s hair is on the insistent side of encouraging, but Eve finds herself not minding. How can she possibly mind, when the fingers caressing her scalp feel so good?

Eve fights the stubborn part of herself that wants to draw this out, that wants to make Villanelle suffer and beg until she is a quivering shell of a woman, and licks a broad stripe up Villanelle’s centre with the flat of her tongue. She hums at the taste, then moves her hand aside and wraps her lips around Villanelle’s clit, flicking her tongue against it as her fingers dip lower, teasing for just a long enough to draw a needy whine from Villanelle’s throat before she dips them back inside again.

It’s easy to find a rhythm that works. Her fingers pump and twist while her tongue shows its devotion to Villanelle’s clit. And she knows that it’s working because Villanelle’s hips rock and stutter to the same pulse, desperate hands clawing at Eve’s head as if the fistfuls of hair still isn’t enough to

Eve glances up, having momentarily forgotten about the layers of silk covering Villanelle’s eyes, and is disappointed that she can’t fully see Villanelle’s face as she hurtles towards an orgasm.

“Take it off,” pleads Eve, lifting her mouth for just long enough to make the request. She curls her fingers, rubbing against the spot that she knows drives Villanelle wild with each thrust.

Villanelle’s free hand fumbles with the blindfold, desperately tearing it out of the way so that she can look at Eve. Her eyelids are heavy with arousal, and paired with the flushed cheeks and blown pupils, it’s all just really fucking hot.

“Good girl,” Eve praises her.

Villanelle’s orgasm comes in like a wave, starting with soft ripples that announce its imminent arrival, before it gets swept away by a huge surge that trembles through her body. Fresh arousal spills over Eve’s fingers and tongue as she works Villanelle through it, coaxing tremors and moans through the body beneath her. Watching Villanelle come undone, watching her completely fail to keep herself composed as she falls back onto the mattress and clings to Eve’s hair like it’s the only thing tethering her to reality, is a blessing that Eve will never tire of seeing.

When Villanelle’s body finally stops shaking and she sinks into the mattress, completely spent, Eve slowly withdraws her fingers and gives Villanelle’s clit one final kiss, before she climbs onto the bed and drapes herself across Villanelle.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs against Villanelle’s cheek, using her hand to stroke Villanelle’s hair out of her exhausted face. “Beautiful. Breathtaking. Mine.”

“I’m so lucky to have you, Eve,” Villanelle says, wrapping an arm around Eve’s back to hold her as close as possible. “So lucky. You take such good care of me. I’ve … I’ve never had anybody who makes me feel this way before.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby. The way you give yourself to me. The way you trust every part of yourself with me. Nobody has ever done that for me before.”

Villanelle opens her eyes and turns her head, pressing her forehead against Eve’s.

“Then we’re both the lucky ones.”


End file.
